


Wrong Number

by Tenoko1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Shippy Gen, Storytelling using the book's format and use of addendums, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 04:31:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenoko1/pseuds/Tenoko1
Summary: “Oh, hello. What have we here?”Sam, Dean, and Cas all shared a look of confusion. It was called magic for the simple fact it wasn’t an exact science and they’d possibly taken a wrong turn*.--*As is often the case when men drive and no one is willing to admit the error, causing a great deal more trouble than had a simple conversation been had, wrongs admitted, and perhaps utilization of a map.





	Wrong Number

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I got this Ask and accidental!fic happened. Again. If you have not read the book for _Good Omens_ , it has a unique writing style that uses asterisks and addendums at the bottom of the page which I've used with this fic, as well as attempting to keep with the original writing style of the novel. It's generally for humor purposes, as I hope the summary makes clear.  
> \--  
> Anon Ask: I just keep imaginings the look on Crowley's face if good omens characters ever ended up in the supernatural universe. Especially with how Crowley and Aziraphale around each other.

They met on accident, as many a great things happen, while using a spell and a mirror to try and get a hold of Dorothy in Oz. Instead, they saw a bookshop and a man in a cream suit on the other side of the normally reflective surface.

“Oh, hello. What have we here?”

Sam, Dean, and Cas all shared a look of confusion. It was called magic for the simple fact it wasn’t an exact science and they’d possibly taken a wrong turn.[[1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#note1)]

“Um, hi,” Sam tried. “W-we’re looking for- or, well, were trying to get ahold of Dorothy? Baum?”

The man wasn’t listening, fingers trailing the edges of the mirror on his side. “How fascinating. Enchanted, yes, of course. Incredible.” He grinned. “Humans are so brilliant, don’t you think?” Flushing, he had the sense to look abashed. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I’m being rude. My name is Aziraphale. Owner of this bookshop. You were looking for… which book?”

“No,” Dean stated, voice flat and making the other man’s smile falter. “A person. Dorothy Baum. Hero of Oz. Witch killer.”

“Angel,” another voice on the other side of the mirror called out, “who are you talking to?”

“O-oh, well,” a lanky figure all swagger and a black suit stepped into view, “it’s most curious, actually.”

He tipped his head forward, yellow, slitted eyes peering at them over the sunglasses he hadn’t removed upon coming indoors.[[2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#note2)] “Bloody enchanted mirror is what it is, Angel. How long have you had this?”

“Oh, there was a wonderful little market held at the park–”

The man with red hair straightened, pointing to them. “Are they from your side? They’re not mine.”

Aziraphale wrung his fingers, looking quite worried. “I don’t think they’re from either side, actually. I don’t even think they’re from _here_.”

Yellow eyes flicked to them. “Oh, that’s worse. That’s not just an enchanted mirror, then.” He whipped around to the other man. “Are you telling me you _accidentally_ ended up with some sort of _ancient celestial artifact_ and didn’t _realize_?”

“Well, I was certainly drawn to it. I-I simply thought it was because it was so lovely…”

“Bugger all, Angel. You better hope your side doesn’t find out or they’ll show up to collect it. Last thing we need is those patsies thinking we’re dealing in black market artifacts.[[3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#note3)]” He sneered, coming forward, face nearly to the glass as he inspected it. “They’ll start getting all nosy.”

“I wouldn’t touch it, dear,” warned Aziraphale, hands outstretched. “I don’t want it to hurt you. Or worse. Oh dear, that would be dreadful.”

Dean’s mouth was twisted, arms folded. “I have so many questions.”

“Oh?” asked the man with yellow eyes. “What about?”

“What kind of munchkin are you?”

He straightened, indignant and baffled. He looked at Aziraphale. “The bloody hell is he talking about?”

“I-I’m honestly not sure, you see. They asked about Dorothy. You know, the one from Oz. And I thought they were inquiring about the books, but–”

“They use a magic mirror for a little shopping when they could just watch the movie? Nah.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam interrupted. They turned their heads. “We were trying to reach our friend Dorothy Baum. Are you not in Oz?”

The man in black threw his head back on a bark of laughter, but Aziraphale looked even more flustered.

“Oz? Heavens, no. We’re in England[[4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#note4)].” He scowled at the other man. “Crowley, dear, I do wish you’d stop laughing. It’s very rude.”

Sam, Dean, and Cas all straightened. “Crowley?!”

Both Crowley and Aziraphale snapped their attention to the mirror. Crowley’s eyes narrowed in a look that wasn’t so much confusion as it was suspicion. It was a look he often wore.

“Where did you fellows say you were from?”

“Earth. Adjacent,” Dean said.[[5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#note5)]

Crowley’s posture relaxed and he flopped into a chair with a wave of his hand. “Well, that explains the wrong number.”

Castiel moved closer to the mirror. “Are you a demon, as well?”

Yellow eyes slid his way. “That’s generally what happens when an angel falls. Gotta say, demons certainly look, well… practically _normal_ in your world. It’s almost boring.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chastized.

Cas straightened with a glare. “I’m an angel of the lord.”

Crowley brightened and slapped Aziraphale’s sleeve with the back of his hand. “See? They are from your side!”

The blond man watched them with a wary and most perplexed expression. “I believe more proper introductions may be in order… My name is Aziraphale, owner of this bookshop. In England. Which, I think, I already mentioned now I say it. Oh dear. I am, er, well, a Principality and the Angel of the Eastern Gate.”

“Formerly,” added Crowley.

“Dear,” said Aziraphale with patient exasperation, “I haven’t been officially notified of a demotion since, well...”

The demon grinned at him, head lolled back. “Since we saved the world from Heaven and Hell's total muck up of The ineffable Plan? Their failed Armageddon they're pretending never happened? I’m just glad they’ve decided to _ignore_ us.” He popped up from the chair, straightening his suit and dusting it off. “Anthony J. Crowley– _not_ at your service." He jerked his thumb at Aziraphale. "I generally go where the angel goes. Demon and one of the Fallen.”

Aziraphale made a small noise, looking quite bothered, and shifted awkwardly. “Not so much _fallen_ as having, well, ‘sauntered vaguely downward’?” he tried, voice pitched with uncertainty he'd remembered the words right.

Crowley gave him a grin both toothy and incredibly fond to the point of making the three on the other side of the mirror feel awkward, as displays of public affection often do.

“That’s my angel.”

Clearing his throat, Dean looked away. “Uh, yeah. Wrong number. Sam, how do we hang up?”

Aziraphale brightened and raised a hand. “Oh, I can help.”

He snapped his fingers and the mirror returned to its regular appearance of a perfectly normal wall decoration displaying their reflections.

With the phone call ended, parties on both sides shared a moment of confusion over what had just taken place, and then promptly decided it was time for lunch.

–

END

**Author's Note:**

> 1As is often the case when men drive and no one is willing to admit the error, causing a great deal more trouble than had a simple conversation been had, wrongs admitted, and perhaps utilization of a map.  [ [return to text](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#return1) ]
> 
> 2As he was want to do in order to hide his rather inhuman eyes. It was something most others found quite pretentious, had Crowley been at all bothered to notice or care.  [ [return to text](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#return2) ]
> 
> 3They both had, in fact, been dealing in black market deals and backroom miracles practically since the Garden and had done quite well at it. While Crowley considered it part of his job and thought nothing of it, Aziraphale was a bit more bothered and contented himself that having a job– of sorts– and income, well, it was practically a sign of how well he’d acclimated to life on Earth, which was part of his job while assigned there, anyway. [ [return to text](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#return3) ]
> 
> 4Crowley and Aziraphale had gone to Oz together after the French Revolution in search of cravats and crepes to Aziraphale’s heart’s content. It was the first of many holidays they took together.  [ [return to text](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#return4) ]
> 
> 5Dean was incorrect. They were, in fact, five worlds over and to the left. [ [return to text](http://archiveofourown.org/works/19191889#return5) ]
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! Please remember to always properly feed and water your fanwork creators: like, comment, kudos, reblog (and tag), and rec their fics/gifs/graphics/artwork/podfics/vids/other works to your friends. You may think they probably get praise already, but I promise you they don't. And certainly not enough. Small things will make their day and WEEK. If you're reading a fic/comic, watching an edit, admiring art, or something else, be it for the first time or the fiftieth, whether it's new or they posted it 10+ years ago, let the creator know.


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